The Tangled Web of Time
by Heather
Summary: The only way to live forever is to love.


Title: "The Tangled Web of Time"  
Author: Heather Horn   
Rating: PG  
Category: MSR, A  
Original Post Date: 11/12/00 - Revised 03/27/02  
Spoilers: "Emily" and "Fight the Future"  
Timeline: Post-"Arcadia"  
Summary: The only way to live forever is to love.  
Distribution: Anywhere and everywhere. Please keep my name  
attached, and let me know where you are putting it. Thank  
you!  
Feedback: Please send any comments - kisses and flames are   
both greatly appreciated - to heathabear@hotmail.com.   
Thanks a billion!  
Disclaimer: "The X-Files" is copyright Chris Carter, 1013  
Productions, and The FOX Network. No money is being made   
from this. The lyrics from "Piano Man" by Billy Joel are copyright Sony   
Music. No copyright infringement is intended.  
Acknowledgements: I was lucky enough to have two  
beta-readers on this piece, Marie and Char. Thank you both for your hard   
work, kind words, and input. I could not have written this story without   
you. Thanks, Clemens, for letting me uses your name.   
  
  
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."  
- "Moulin Rouge"  
  
  
"The Tangled Web of Time" (1/1)  
By Heather Horn  
  
His new number two pencil tapped against the oak wood   
desktop with ennui, flauntingly greeting the rest of  
Mulder's collection as it brushed the desk on each gentle  
tap. A smirk began to grow across Mulder's face as he  
leaned dexterously back in his chair and aimed the pencil  
at the ceiling. His right arm drew back in preparation,  
but before he could release the tiny projectile, an   
vivacious chime arose from the telephone.  
  
Startled by the noise, Mulder lost his balance, and the  
chair began to tumble backwards. He regained equilibrium  
in the nick of time, although he was not entirely fortunate.  
The pencil left his hand and ricocheted off of the desk,  
causing it to jolt back towards Mulder, the tip  
grazing his cheek before it fell into his lap.   
  
"Mulder," he answered the distraction irritably with one  
hand, rubbing his injured cheek with the other.  
  
"Now, John at the bar is a friend of mine," a voice flowed  
melodiously through the line. "He gets me my drinks for   
free."   
  
"Who is this?" Mulder demanded impatiently.  
  
"And he's quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke,  
but there's someplace that he'd rather be."  
  
"Jonathan? Is that you?" Mulder asked in disbelief.  
  
"Who were you expecting, Billy Joel?"  
  
"It is you! God, Jonathan, it's been ages!"  
  
"Oh, Lord, it has, I know it has. I could shoot myself for  
not keeping in touch with you - or just let you do it for  
me."  
  
"I wouldn't go that far, Jonathan."  
  
"Of course you would. Now, I've got a little favor to ask  
you, Fox. My baby sister's getting married tomorrow, and I  
have to fly out for the rehearsal dinner tonight. Clemens   
was going to cover for me, but he's out sick, and -"  
  
"Jonathan, I would love to help you, but I don't know a   
damn thing about bartending."  
  
"Sure, you do! You helped me that week when I was   
short-handed back in eighty-one!"  
  
"That was eighteen years ago!"  
  
"You'll do just fine! You'll be in good company, too.   
Tammie'll be there, she's a great girl, just too new to the   
job to run the place alone. And Ritchie's still playing  
piano, after all these years."  
  
"Really? Ritchie's still plucking away at the keys?"  
  
"All eighty-eight of 'em. So, what do you say? Be there at  
six to set up?"  
  
"All right," Mulder agreed after a long pause. "But you owe  
me."  
  
Mulder let the phone drop back into its cradle as he  
wondered what he had gotten himself into. He had nothing  
better to do on a Friday night. Although he found that fact   
to be slightly disturbing, he knew that he would not miss   
anything by driving forty-five minutes in rush-hour traffic  
to the old, rustic tavern in the middle of nowhere that   
Jonathan called a bar.  
  
After sharpening a new pencil from his colossal collection,  
Mulder resumed his position in the chair, aiming the  
item with intense concentration and precision. As if on  
cue, the office door swung open, and his partner slowly  
entered, struggling beneath the weight of a large box.   
Mulder barely avoided falling for the second time in ten  
minutes, this time his legs flailing upwards as he   
frantically grabbed for the desk to steady himself.   
  
"Mulder, I'm going to drop these files that you wanted  
in about two seconds, and then I'll look even more stupid  
than you do," Scully remarked, yet a hint of a smile still  
managed to escape from her pursed lips.  
  
Mulder stood decisively, pausing momentarily in an attempt   
to regain his dignity from the chair incident. He took the   
box from Scully, setting it down on top of a vast array of   
dusty paperwork and case files.   
  
"What've you got in here, rocks?" he questioned, as the box   
hit the desk with a thump.  
  
"Either that, or the files that you asked me to pull," she  
replied coolly. She waited for him to thank her, but he was  
already tearing through the box like a toddler on Christmas  
morning, and that was thanks enough for her. "Mulder, what   
would you ever do without me?" She laughed.  
  
"You don't wanna know."  
  
With a content smile from his reply, she bent down to pick   
up some files that had fallen to the office floor in her  
partner's mad rush.  
  
"So, Mulder, it's Friday night. Big plans?"  
  
"Nah, just doing a favor for an old friend."  
  
"The boys aren't making you trek through the Amazon or   
something wild like that, are they?"   
  
"No, no, no, nothing like that," he assured her. "How   
about you?"  
  
"I'm going to my mom's for dinner. Bill, Tara, and Matthew are   
in from San Diego," her voice softened. "It'll be good to see   
Matthew, I bet he's huge by now."  
  
There was an awkward pause following Scully's mention of the   
baby, and Mulder hurried to ease the situation with a joke.  
  
"Tell Bill I said hi. And that I miss him and the way we used   
to watch chick flicks and eat Cherry Garcia ice cream on rainy   
Saturday afternoons," Mulder grinned.  
  
Scully laughed, and Mulder looked up from his paperwork at   
the pleasant surprise. To hear Scully laugh, to hear her  
genuinely chuckle, was a treat in itself. She shared her  
polite, professional giggle with him every now and then,  
but her laugh was in a league of its own.  
  
"Say hello to your mother for me. I'll see you on Monday."  
  
With that, he was out the door, and Scully watched him go   
with the smallest hint of a smile on her face before she  
began to pack up her belongings.  
  
"What would I do without him?" she wondered, and headed  
out the door.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, Mulder stopped his car in front  
of the quaint brick building that read in faded green   
letters, "Dear Juliana."  
  
Juliana was Jonathan's wife, and Mulder had never seen two  
people more in love than they were. Jonathan had founded   
the bar after he had been dating Juliana for a year.   
Beneath the "Dear Juliana" sign, he had painted his   
proposal in heartfelt letters.  
  
It was a fairytale romance of a princess and a knight in  
shining armor. The only difference was that the story of   
Jonathan and Juliana was not fiction, nor was it a timeless   
tale used as a bedtime story used to bring slumber upon   
young children. Jonathan and Juliana lived   
"happily ever after," and that was the incontrovertible   
truth.  
  
There were already two cars in the parking lot prior to  
Mulder's arrival, probably members of the staff. Upon   
entering the bar, Mulder saw a blond girl in her early  
twenties wiping down the bar with a wet rag. She had a   
tiny frame and vibrant blue eyes, and she wore a bright  
smile on her face.  
  
"You must be Agent Mulder," she exclaimed with so much   
moxie that Mulder could not help but think to himself,  
"Valley girl." He remained silent, but gave her a nod  
and a small smile.  
  
"I'm Tammie," she continued, not seeming to notice Mulder's  
silence. When she held out her hand, Mulder shook it and   
gave her the courtesy of a real smile. "Mister Giovannoni   
has said so many wonderful things about y -"  
  
She was cut short by a holler from the back door.  
  
"Tammie, you know that boss tell ya not ta call him 'Mister  
Giovannoni!'" Ritchie shouted as he entered the bar.  
  
"Ritchie! Lord, it's been ages!" Mulder exclaimed, quickly  
embracing the elderly pianist. Ritchie was a legend, a man   
of many friends and virtually no enemies.  
  
"It be good to have ya back, Fox," Ritchie proclaimed.  
  
"It's good to be back, Ritchie," Mulder replied with a grin.  
  
"Five minutes 'till we open, people!" Tammie exclaimed.  
"Let's get to work!"  
  
The lights flickered on, Mulder jumped behind the bar, and  
Ritchie sat down at his piano. As music began to permeate  
throughout the room, the throng flowed in, taking their  
seats at the tables and the bar. Tammie waited tables while   
Mulder stood behind the bar, filling her orders and waiting  
for someone to sit down at the bar at tell him his or her   
life story.  
  
He watched as Tammie waited on a young couple sitting   
towards the back. Before he knew it, an older couple had   
taken a seat close to the piano, and three college  
boys took a seat in the middle of the room. The customers  
seemed to enjoy Tammie's effervescent personality, but  
the barstools remained empty for the first hour.   
After all of his years in Alexandria, Mulder had forgotten  
what it was like to be in a small-town bar.  
  
Eventually, a middle-aged man walked in and sat down at the  
bar. He had a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth,   
and Mulder was cautioned by the sign of smoke. For obvious  
reasons, he did not care for smokers. Tonight, however, he   
was playing bartender. Playing Jonathan. Playing the role   
of the all-around nice guy who believes in sugar and spice   
and everything nice.  
  
"What can I get you?" Mulder asked the man with a forced  
liveliness.  
  
"Vodka 7UP, lime and olives," he mumbled, never bothering to  
look at Mulder.  
  
Mulder filled the glass in an impressive matter of seconds,   
setting it down in front of the man. He seemed to consume  
the drink before it touched his lips. The man nodded to   
Mulder, pointing his index fingers at the glass in   
indication that he wanted more.  
  
The man looked angry. Angry at the world, or a friend, or   
maybe himself. His eyes were glassed over and distanced, and   
Mulder knew that feeling all to well. The earth had stopped   
spinning. Someone had stepped on it, and now it was just gum   
on the bottom of his or her shoe. It was all falling apart,   
and there was nothing that he could do about it.  
  
Yes, Mulder knew that feeling like the back of his hand.  
What was he supposed to say to man? He remembered the   
bartender at Casey's. She had asked him simple questions,  
questions so simple that they barely registered in his   
mind - and gotten more of an answer than she had   
bargained for.   
  
"Goofy day?" Mulder imitated the bartender from Casey's.  
  
"Lonely day," the man answered, finally meeting Mulder's  
eyes. Then he stood up, threw some bills on the table,   
and was out the door before Ritchie finished the next   
measure of his song. Tammie had been standing nearby, and she  
saw the departure of the man, followed by Mulder's attempt  
to hide his discouragement.  
  
"Don't sweat it, Agent Mulder," she offered. "Some people  
will tell you their life story, and some people will  
tell you to go to hell. You just gotta keep trying."  
  
"Thanks, kiddo," he gave her a weak smile. Tammie returned   
his smile with one a thousand times more powerful, then took   
the tray of drinks Mulder had prepared and carried them to   
their thirsty recipients.  
  
Over the next few hours, Mulder served a martini-guzzling  
socialite, a paleontologist from New York City, a   
chief-of-staff at a county hospital, a power plant  
technician, and a Kinko's employee who had just dumped  
her boyfriend because he continuously used her employee   
discount to copy his rear end.  
  
They all had interesting stories to tell, and Mulder enjoyed   
listening. That was all they wanted, someone to listen.  
They did not ask for ten-dollar words or a sign from above,   
they just wanted someone to lend an ear. He was enthralled   
by the fact that in such a material world, it was still the  
little things in life that made it worth living.  
  
Towards the end of the evening, another middle-aged man  
walked towards the bar. This one had no smoke of any kind  
protruding from his mouth, and Mulder smiled.  
  
"What'll it be?" Mulder perfected his newfound favorite  
line.   
  
"Long Island iced tea," The man replied, returning Mulder's  
grin with a soft, thoughtful smile. "On second thought,  
why not make it a strawberry daiquiri?"  
  
"Sure thing," Mulder told the customer as he mixed the   
concoction.  
  
"Thanks," he said as Mulder sat the glass in front of him.  
He listened to Ritchie play for a moment before bringing the  
beverage to his lips and taking a sip. "Abby loves   
daiquiris."  
  
"Wife?"  
  
"I wish. I mean, no, I don't, I don't wish that. That would  
ruin everything. I mean, maybe I do want it. I don't know  
what I want. I've known Abby forever. We're best friends.  
Soul mates. But we're not together."  
  
"Do you know why?"  
  
"No, and I don't know why I'm telling you all this either.  
But I would die for Abby, and I would die without her. I   
love her more than she'll ever know."  
  
"Then why not tell her?"  
  
"Because I don't want to risking loosing her. I would rather  
have her as a friend than not have her at all."   
  
Mulder knew that giving advice was not in his job   
description. He was supposed to listen, nod, and get the   
customer tipsy enough to run up a large bill, but not so  
drunk as to make him or her a threat to society. However,   
Mulder felt obligated to tell the man what to do.  
  
To do what he was too cowardly to do himself.  
  
"You would pertain from telling her, so that you could risk  
not loosing her. Isn't that a pretty big risk in itself?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You love this woman, this Abby, right? Well, what if   
she loves you, too? What if she's waiting for you to tell  
her, but you never do?"  
  
"No, not Abby. If she felt anything for me, she'd say   
it."  
  
"How can you be sure?"  
  
"I just...I just do."  
  
"What if she's sitting in a bar right now, saying to the  
bartender, 'No, not him, if he felt anything for me,  
he'd say it'?"  
  
"Abby wouldn't do that. She's not like other women."  
  
"I'm not questioning your integrity, pal, but everybody   
makes mistakes; miscalculations. Do you really want to   
spend the rest of your life wondering?"  
  
"No, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone,  
either."  
  
"Well, if you don't tell her, that you're pretty much alone  
no matter what. If you tell her, there's a chance that  
you'll have someone to spend your life with."   
  
The man's eyes closed, and he inhaled, taking everything  
in.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered as he paid Mulder, and he turned  
to leave.  
  
Mulder smiled, glad that he was able to help the man.  
Inside, though, he was kicking himself.  
  
Hypocrite.  
  
The last round of drinks went out, and closing time rolled  
around. Mulder learned that Tammie was enrolled in medical   
school, and he came to the conclusion that she was not a  
"valley girl" after all. He even let her leave early so   
that she could get some sleep. He claimed that he was still   
wired, and closing up would help him to wind down.  
  
"Well, good-bye, then, Agent Mulder!" She chimed. "It was a   
pleasure meeting you!"  
  
"You too, kiddo," Mulder replied. "Good luck with school!"  
  
Ritchie stayed to talk to Mulder, and Mulder was glad to be   
in his company.  
  
"So, did Juliana go to the wedding with Jonathan?" Mulder   
asked.  
  
The gleam in Ritchie's eyes vanished as soon as the words   
had left Mulder's mouth. The old man looked sick to his   
stomach.  
  
"I can't believe he didn't tell you."  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
"Juliana died last year. Cancer."  
  
Mulder's eyes shut, the color draining from his face. Sure,  
people died everyday, but how could Jonathan's Juliana   
die? Wasn't there supposed to be a powerful force within   
love that was strong enough to shelter people from hardships   
such as death?   
  
No, there is no such force, he decided. The only force is   
time, and it is no ally of love. Every person who dies is   
loved by someone, missed by someone, and these people die  
anyway. Maybe there was no such thing as "happily ever  
after."  
  
There was nothing stopping Juliana from dying. There was  
nothing stopping anyone from dying. He bit his lip in   
refusal to come to terms with the fact, although he knew   
that he had to.   
  
There was nothing stopping Scully from dying.  
  
After all the countless times that she had been hospitalized  
with an ailment at the fault of his search for the truth,  
Mulder should have realized these elements of death   
long ago. He had encountered death many times, yet it was too  
excruciating to entertain the notion of Scully's death.   
Instead, he decided to wait for her peril to cease, and for  
normal life to return, as it always did. He had become so  
accustomed to doing so that Scully's recoveries became a  
fact of life. Past circumstances had led him to believe  
that if he just ignored the situation, it would   
eventually disappear. However, the realization was beginning  
to dawn on him that death could not be prevented.  
  
"How's Jonathan been doing?" Mulder found it within himself  
to ask.  
  
"He's the same on the surface, still a happy do-gooder, but  
he's broken inside. He ain't never gonna love again; ain't   
never gonna be the same. He didn't believe in love, he   
believed in Juliana."  
  
"Oh. Oh, God," Mulder muttered. "Thank you for everything,   
Ritchie. It was great seeing you again. I - I'll try to   
stop by more often. You take care of yourself now, and   
tell Jonathan I said hi, okay?"  
  
"Of course, Fox. God bless you."  
  
Mulder washed down the bar one last time, and made sure  
the entrances were locked securely. He headed for his   
car once there was nothing more to be done at the bar,  
but he paused, deep in thought, before putting the key in   
the ignition.  
  
Who would have know that bartending could be such an   
educational experience?   
  
He had learned his lesson. Time does not wait for anyone  
to get over their fears. It just sits there, a chip  
on your shoulder, a bomb waiting to go off. It is a race  
against time, and life must be lived to its fullest before   
it is too late. He could not imagine how he could begin to   
tell her how complete she had made him feel, but he would   
find a way.  
  
He had to find a way.  
  
There was nothing stopping Scully from dying, he was well  
aware of that inevitable fact. However, there was nothing   
stopping her from living, either.   
  
He would be taking a chance in telling her, taking the  
biggest risk of his life. None of that mattered, though,  
because if he sat idly by, he would be standing in the way  
of his own happiness, possibly in the way of Scully's.  
He could not turn back the hands of time, but he could  
open his mouth and tell her that he loved her.  
  
There are chances to be chanced.  
  
There are risks to be risked.  
  
Above all, there are lovers to be loved in this tangled web  
of time.  
  
THE END (1/1)  
  
Thank you for taking the time to read "The Tangled Web of  
Time". I hope you enjoyed it! Please send any   
comments - kisses and flames are both greatly   
appreciated - to heathabear@hotmail.com. Thanks a billion!  
  
You can find all of my fan fiction at my website,  
Mulder + Scully = True Love  
http://mstruelove.tripod.com  
"True love is friendship set on fire." 


End file.
